


Turks-Whump-tober 2020

by coppercaps



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Blood and Injury, Character Death, Explicit Sexual Content, Fainting, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Overworking, Panic Attacks, Turkstober 2020, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26779366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coppercaps/pseuds/coppercaps
Summary: A collection of Turks-centered prompt fills of the 2020 Turkstober and Whumptober challenges.Warnings for each story are stated individually in the notes at the beginning of each story/chapter.
Relationships: Reno/Cloud Strife, Reno/Rude (Compilation of FFVII), Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 17
Kudos: 53





	1. Wounded (Tsengru)

**Author's Note:**

> Tseng struggles with an unexpected side effect of his newly arisen relationship with a certain Vice President.
> 
> Turkstober Day 2 - Wounded.  
> Warning for (mildly?) graphic descriptions of blood.

“I can hear you thinking. Stop beating yourself up.”

Were the circumstances different, Rufus would have laughed about the uncharacteristically sulky grunt that he received instead of a properly worded reply. But the reality was that Rufus was concerned about Tseng’s apparent intention to break his own hands by gripping the steering wheel too tightly, leather gloves threatening to tear at the seams under badly contained rage mixed with residue adrenaline still coursing through the Turk’s veins. Tseng’s eyes wandered to the rearview mirror and his mimic hardened at the sight Rufus laying across the back seats of the limousine, his once white jacket tinted red as he clutched it to his head. Averting his gaze quickly to re-focus on the empty street ahead, Tseng forced his tight jaw to unclench.

“I am sorry to have failed you, Sir”, he muttered and Rufus rolled his eyes in annoyance at the poison dripping from his voice. Poison the faithful bodyguard aimed at himself.  
“You didn’t fail me, Tseng. It’s your job to keep me alive and I feel very much alive back here. Mission accomplished, well done.”  
“It is my fault that you are hurt.”  
“I tripped while you were protecting me from worse damage, might as well have done so walking down those stairs.”  
“I would have caught you. It is my responsibility to–“  
“Stop the car.”  
“Sir?”  
“Stop the car, now!”

The Turk stepped on the brake right away, gently but swiftly bringing the vehicle to a stop at the side of the empty road leading towards Sector One. Jumping out of the driver's seat, Tseng scanned their surroundings for any potential danger with a quick glance before opening the door above Rufus’ head.  
“Are you feeling unwell? Nausea, dizziness? Do you–“  
“Get the first aid kit”, Rufus ordered and Tseng scrambled to obey, panic surging in his chest. Had he evaluated Rufus’ injury wrong? He had been in a rush to get them out of the situation, practically throwing Rufus in the back of the car to get away from the attackers as fast as possible. Maybe he had overseen the signs of a concussion? Had the bleeding gotten worse?  
With the kit in both hands, Tseng made his way back from the trunk to the backseats where Rufus had meanwhile sat up and Tseng clutched the small orange box tighter, plastic cracking from the pressure as Tseng knelt down, his world narrowing down on his charge’s state.

The Vice President was a mess.  
Blood was running down the side of his face in thin rivulets, a stark contrast against the man’s fair skin, smeared here and there by the heavy fabric pressed against its source. Disheveled strands of what used to be brilliant blonde hair were glued together by congealed blood, the same substance that was responsible for the large black stain that slowly spread over the shoulder of Rufus’ anthracite-colored dress shirt.

Tseng tore himself away from the sight to assume the place in the seat next to the Vice President, tearing one hand away from the container that now rested in his lap to forcefully pull the door behind him shut and click on the overhead light. Rufus removed the hand and fabric applying pressure to his forehead to reveal a coin-sized area, right at the verge of his hairline, swollen with a blue-ish tint hinted beneath taut skin. Tseng leaned forward, gloved fingers carefully removing stray strands to get a better look at the still oozing cut underneath.  
“Kiss me”, Rufus ordered, harsh and demanding, and Tseng brought distance between them, dark brown eyes mustering the others' unforgivingly hard, cold gaze in confusion.  
“Sir, I–“  
“No ‘Sir’, Tseng. Kiss me.”  
“We can’t–“  
“We can. Because you are not my bodyguard right now. You are my boyfriend who is freaking out about me having bumped my head a little.”

Tseng wanted to protest, but as soon as his mind registered what Rufus had said, all words were instantly removed from his mind and replaced by the overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around the man in front of him and press him tightly against his own body. To hear his breath, the pulse of his heart beating in his chest, to drown in his warmth and just feel that he is alive.  
Sensing the shift in attitude, Rufus’ expression softened and he took hold of Tseng’s unoccupied fingers, bringing them up to his lips and press a gentle kiss against the exposed skin of the back of his hand.

“People have always made attempts at my life and will continue to do so in the future, just as you will continue to stop them from succeeding. And every now and then, just like in the past, I won’t get out unscathed and that’s ok. The reality that we are no longer just charge and bodyguard anymore but lovers as well doesn’t change a thing about these facts. So stop beating yourself up. I’m still here. I’m fine.  
The last words were barely more than a whisper as Rufus leaned forwards to gently press his lips against Tseng’s, fingers interlacing where he had lowered their hands between them. Another kiss followed, and another, and finally, Tseng released the breath he had held, forehead gently falling against the others’, unmindful of the blood staining his own skin.

“Patch me up. See for yourself that it’s just a scratch. And then we drive home and take a nice long bath together. How does that sound?”  
Pressing his eyelids closed, Tseng took a shuddering breath, willing away the mental details of Rufus’ bloodied face to replace it with memories of the blonde curled up against his side, skin flushed by the hot water surrounding them both as they languidly explore each others’ bodies with gentle touches beneath a landscape of white bubbles.  
“That sounds good”, Tseng admitted, swallowing down the last sparks of anxiety before opening his eyelids again to look into his lover's face.

And this time, all he noticed was the warmth within steel blue eyes.


	2. "Get it Out" (Reno, Rude)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whumptober Day 6 - "Get it Out"  
> Warning for non-consensual drug use. Can be read as character death. Can be read as Reno/Rude.

“Get it out… get it out, get it out, get it out!”  
Rude winced at the bitter taste the increasingly frantic shouts of his partner left in his mouth. Being loud wasn’t unusual behavior for Reno, Rude had learned during their first mission.   
But his voice breaking with the sharp edge of terrified panic was.

With more power than he felt comfortable using against his partner, Rude grabbed Reno’s wrists, halting the other’s desperate tearing at his own throat, preventing dull nails from further tearing bloody welts into the pale, sweat-slick skin.  
“Stop it! You can’t– Reno!”  
Rude forced his arms down to Reno’s sides, hesitant yet unforgiving in his movements against the other’s will. 

Over the years, Rude had figured out that fighting came naturally to Reno, his whole character thriving in the resistance against Shinra that they sought to dismantle day by day.   
But this time, Reno’s struggles lasted only mere seconds before his forehead fell against the solid plane of Rude’s chest and there was nothing for Rude to do but accept the horror as the drug that had been forced into his partner’s system took its effect. Yet the words kept flowing out of Reno’s mouth in an endless chant, weaker and quieter with each repetition. 

“I’ve got you…”  
Like a puppet cut from its strings, Reno slumped, body falling into Rude’s. As promised, Rude was there to catch him, carefully guiding them both to the floor. With his right hand at the neck to support Reno’s head, Rude went down to his right knee, the left upright to lean Reno’s back against it. With his left arm, Rude cradled the slimmer body against his own form as he tilted his own head to rest his cheek against the redhead’s clammy forehead.  
“Get it out… please…”

Talking came easy to Reno, Rude had noticed right away the moment they had first met. And when he stopped talking, as no more pleas spilled past his lips, the silence was deafening.   
Behind his glasses, Rude clenched his eyes, eyelids pressed shut tightly as he held on to the slack body in his arms as if his life depended on it.  
“I’m so sorry…”

But his apology remained unheard. Steel green eyes stared into the distance, dull and unseeing.  
And Rude’s heart broke like the promise they had made all those years ago. 


	3. Carrying & Overtime (Tsengru)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of Before Crisis’ events, Tseng does his best to not falter under the pressure he newly finds himself exposed to, at the expense of his own health.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whumptober Day 7 - Carrying and Turkstober Day 7 - Overtime.

Clicking. Keys of a keyboard, hit with more force than necessary, enthusiasm, probably. The scratch of a fountain pen against paper, the tip too dry, too much force. Someone was vacuum cleaning the floor, three rooms over, maybe four, the empty hall echoing the high roar of the old machine. It’s loud, too loud. Did someone leave the door open? Why would they? _Objective escaped through the window, male, tall, coffee, since yesterday_ – Coffee? What?

“Tseng. Are you listening?”  
Brown eyes shot up from the monitor to the tall man to his left, half sitting on the corner of the polished surface. Tseng wasn’t aware of how long it took to be able to focus and comprehend what had been said to him. When had the other come in? Had he confederated with Reno and Rude to sneak up on him?  
“I am listening”, he finally replied and Rufus cocked his head.   
“Would you like to give me an answer then?”

What was the question again? He had been too occupied with the report, something important, the objective had coffee– Oh. There it was.  
“Yes, I would enjoy a cup of coffee.”  
“Huh. Would you.”  
Rufus’ surprise was feigned, badly so, but Tseng couldn’t deal with the other’s temperament right now. There were more important matters at hand that needed his attention.  
Which, on second thought, seemed to be rather limited at the moment, as Rufus carefully nudged the full cup he apparently had already placed next to Tseng a little bit closer.  
“Mind telling me when you started working?”  
“He was already in when I started at 8am yesterday, boss”, Reno replied before Rude chimed in without pausing his typing, “And spent the night shift here with me.”  
“You’ve been on a mission last–“, Rufus didn’t finish the sentence, his eyes narrowing, gaze sharp and judging. “Tseng. Have you been working for three days straight?”

The room suddenly fell silent, all distracting noises and buzzing breaking off. Even the cleaning person a couple of rooms over seemed to have stopped their work to unknowingly add to the dramatic pause.  
“No, I haven’t.”  
Which wasn’t a lie. It were four days. But no one had to know that.  
“And when was the last time you took a break that wasn’t a nap on the couch?”  
Ah. How to get out of that one?

“Rufus”, Tseng began and missed the exchange of awkward glances between his subordinates. Tseng never called the Vice President by his first name when they were around. _Never_ .  
“How do you imagine I find new personnel while following Heidegger’s ridiculous orders and advance our plans? Even fully staffed, we would struggle to clean up the mess all of us made. Now we’re down to three people, Rufus. Three. That’s barely enough to cover the day to day business, let alone properly prepare upcoming missions. Add the search for new recruits and–“  
“Alright, I get it, there’s a lot to do, you have to work some overtime. But of how much use do you think you are when you’re running on power naps and coffeine alone?”

Now that rubbed him the wrong way. What did Rufus think which options he had? Decline Heidegger’s attempts at drowning him in work and thus give the man permission to take him out himself? He would much rather die by dozing off on a mission than giving the Head of Public Safety the satisfaction of succumbing to his obvious sabotage attempts. He couldn’t just drop their plans of having Rufus take over the presidency as soon as possible and they needed new staff, that much was obvious. What was he supposed to do?  
Raising from his chair, Tseng turned to face Rufus, the two of them now on eye level. He hoped Rufus didn’t notice the sudden rush of dizziness that instantly clouded his mind. Was he swaying?

“If you have any doubts about my capability to fulfill my duties, you may want to say so now.”  
The annoyance bled heavily through Tseng’s words, his voice rough with unconfined irritation. Hesitation, only for a moment, before Rufus accepted the challenge.  
“Very well then. You are scheduled to spy on my father’s meeting this evening. Let’s take this to the training grounds. Show me how impeccable your focus is.”  
“Gladly.”

Rounding the table, Tseng prayed to whichever deity would have him that the dizziness would dissipate before they reached their destination two floors below. His vision doubled, the image of their office space becoming blurry as he unsteadily but confidently set one foot before the other, steps he thought quick suddenly taking a lot more effort than he remembered, and somewhere in Tseng’s mind, he realized that he needed a lot more of them to cross the space than he expected. Had their office always been so big?  
Suddenly, the room shifted. All sounds became distant, the blurriness of his surroundings increasing. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered his name being called.  
And then, darkness.

* * *

The first thing Tseng noticed when he awoke was the absence of neon lights. The absence of any overhead light, really. He stared ahead, his consciousness trying to figure out whether his eyes were unfocused or if there indeed wasn’t anything to be seen ahead of him, a warm grey plane without any details to it.  
His body shifted instinctively, adjusting itself into a more comfortable position, and his head followed. Rufus sat there, right before him, in a recliner, a book in one hand and what appeared to be a tumbler of Whisky in the other.  
No blurriness. All sharp, warm smiles, softly illuminated by a dim floor lamp.  
“You’re back with me.”

Tseng nodded and had half the mind to sit up, but his body protested the mere thought of it immediately, sending a surge of heaviness and a deep ache through him. So he remained laying instead, trying to fill the gap in his memories.  
“You collapsed. Reno took over the responsibility of the recruiting list for the time being, Rude cleared your schedule. Don’t even think about my father. It would’ve only confirmed what I already know.”  
Rufus Shinra, ever the sharp mind, always one step ahead. Even of Tseng’s own thoughts.

“What time is it?”  
“Almost eleven. You slept the whole day.”  
Tseng groaned, one hand rubbing over his face. “Why didn’t you leave me on the office couch? It would have sufficed, Rude didn’t need to haul me all the way here.”  
“You would’ve hardly gotten any actual rest on that disgraceful piece of furniture. And I carried you here. As you said, the Turks have enough to do already. Can’t add the burden of taking care of their director to the list.”  
Even through the residual haze of exhaustion, Tseng didn’t miss the smugness in Rufus’ last words. He chose not to comment on it as the other disregarded hist things and rose to close the gap between them, sitting on the floor in front of the bed, one arm placed on the edge of the mattress. His head came to rest on his arm and he started to play with the fanned out strands of long, dark hair between them, eyes trained on the movements of his fingers, the soft smile never leaving his lips.  
“I know I’ve put a great burden on your shoulders. And I did so because I am convinced that you are capable of carrying it. Never think that I doubt you. But never think I would want you to suffer either. I want you by my side, Tseng. Now and especially in the future, when I will be president. Please do not jeopardize your own health on the way there.”  
There was a twinge in Tseng’s chest, a sharp stab of having disappointed, quickly soothed by the pressure of his heart filling with warmth and adoration for the other man.

“You carried me here?”, Tseng repeated questioningly, amusement tinting his voice.  
Rufus scoffed in feigned offense, “Of course. The fact that I don’t run around assassinating people doesn’t mean I’m some weak office sitter.”  
“Oh I am aware that you are anything but weak”, Tseng murmured while reaching out to cup Rufus’ neck, guiding him closer to press a soft kiss against his lips.  
There was innocence in the touch, quiet gratitude in the slide of soft skin, until the push and pull intensified, a timid fight for dominance that had Rufus raise off the floor to sit next to Tseng instead, their lips remaining locked until the need for air prevailed.

Freeing his arm from under the thick blanked his boyfriend had wrapped him in, Tseng let his fingers dance beneath the hem of the cotton t-shirt Rufus wore, fingertips dancing softly over the defined muscles of his stomach.  
“Maybe I will require another impression of your strength. I, unfortunately, missed the last one.”  
“Another impression, you say?”, Rufus inquired with a smirk and scooped the other man up, one arm beneath the bend of his knees and the other steady under his shoulder blades. The strained huff of the sudden weight was drowned out by Tseng’s surprised yelp and they both laughed at the silliness of the moment, the future President of Shinra Electric Power Corp. holding his bodyguard and lover in his arms.  
“Allow me to take this someplace else so I can show you just how _impressing_ I can be.”


	4. NSFW "Don't Say Goodbye" & Day Off (Cleno)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Saying goodbye meant closure, for now or for good, that didn’t matter. It made their interaction a thing, put meaning to it, this whatever they had just had, and Cloud preferred it the way it ended up to be. Hanging in the air, a lot to enjoy yet nothing to lose. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whumptober Day 8 - "Don't Say Goodbye" and Turkstober Day 8 - Day Off.  
> Warnings for explicit sexual content and major character death.

The first time it happened, it happened in the alley behind the bar. It wasn’t a clean place, but just on the right side of dirty to still be considered an option and it happened while they were about to part ways to head home anyway, so a shower wasn’t too far away.

Reno had downed three drinks by the time Cloud decided to come over. It wasn’t that he should have been surprised to bump into the redhead – the city wasn’t big enough yet to have a variety of bars that served good snacks, were only moderately visited on a Thursday night and didn’t have a reputation for being the stage of an occasional brawl.  
Cloud’s plans were simple; A drink or two and a snack in the company of a new book. No drama. Noticing the Turk taking a seat across the bar had made Cloud worry about the latter demand to his evening plans. Their gazes met after Reno had placed his first order, a tiny nod in recognition of each others’ presence, but that was that until Cloud had deemed the other to be too much of a nuisance to be ignored a couple of hours later. Cloud respected Reno’s attempt to give him space, though. Valued the fact that he hadn’t chat him up. 

“It’s my day off”, Reno had explained the unasked question halfway through a shared serving of chips, “I ain’t looking for work. And you, Cloud, have a history of meaning work for me. No offense.”  
No offense taken, Cloud had promised. After that point, the rest of his memories were a bit blurry. Cloud wasn’t sure how long or what it had taken for them to end up next to the dumpster, kissing and nipping and frotting like the horny teenagers Shinra had denied them to be back then. Reno did this thing with his mouth, to his mouth, that made him feel filthy, like being fucked in the face but without a dick involved, and Cloud couldn’t hold back the cry as his own orgasm caught him by surprise. He supported Reno chasing his own with a firm grip through the other’s jeans and the groan, long and deep and obscene, almost made him think about asking to take this someplace else for a second round.   
Almost. Because his brain had already cleared enough to perceive the early signs of awkwardness setting in.

“Don’t say goodbye. Jinxes it”, Reno requested then, playfully, with a wink, so Cloud didn’t and they had parted ways without many additional words exchanged.  
Cloud was glad. Saying goodbye meant closure, for now or for good, that didn’t matter. It made their interaction a thing, put meaning to it, this whatever they had just had, and Cloud preferred it the way it ended up to be. Hanging in the air, a lot to enjoy yet nothing to lose.   
Cloud enjoyed not having to worry about losing someone or something for once.

The next time they met, Thursday night again, a few weeks later, they used coconut oil Reno snuck out of the bar’s kitchen as a lubricant. Cloud’s mind basked in the spontaneity of the act as he was fucked into a brick wall, relished in the stretch of Reno’s fat cock and the knowledge that the owner of said cock hadn’t come prepared, without any expectations that Cloud would have had to meet. 

It wasn’t until three months into their irregular sharing of drinks and orgasms that they made it to Reno’s apartment. The had gotten each other off once on the way there already, in the back of the cab, with their hands and nothing else, building up the anticipation for more while taking off the distracting edge of acute horniness. And what talented hands he ended up in, Cloud had reflected, as two fingers inside and one outside milked his prostate for all its worth, blessing him with a whole different kind of orgasm that he had expected just as little as this whole not-thing they had going on between them.

Their encounters were still desultory when Cloud allowed Reno to cum inside him almost half a year after their first shared orgasms. “Don’t worry about the rubber”, he had said as Reno admitted to being unprepared and without a condom, making Cloud’s cock jump and his mind sing in appreciation. He could’ve said no and left things at that. Could have turned and sucked Reno off as the man leaned over him to return the favor. Instead, he had strong arms wrapped around his torso, sharp hips biting into the cheeks of his ass as he arched his back, pressing himself further into Reno’s form to make sure he could paint the deepest parts of his walls with his white, hot semen. The smile that tugged up his lips on the way home, he had reasoned, came just in appreciation of this takeaway as he felt the release trickle down his loosely clothed thighs. No feelings attached.

Another two months later, Cloud had caught himself not looking forward to his Thursday night, but to Reno’s day off. Which remained a Thursday all the same and Cloud excused his excitement with that – just a Thursday night, no Reno necessary, only looking forward to a drink, the fucking was only a pleasant extra, no demands there. And if Cloud happened to come prepared, had hurried a delivery so he could spread himself open on four fingers while thinking about tattooed cheeks, piercing green eyes and sinful words, used that preparation to take a cock while riding his bike, the thought of being caught, of being noticed, exhilarating and having them almost crash into a building as he came so incredibly, deliciously hard, well, that was only coincidence, Cloud convinced himself.

Just like he convinced himself that it was nothing to be sad about when Reno stopped showing up in the bar on Thursday nights. Instead of reading, Cloud found himself once more annoyingly distracted by the redhead as Cloud attempted to convince himself of the absence’s insignificance over the ache in his chest.   
They hadn’t been a thing, after all. Hadn’t said goodbye even once afterward, as normal people would have.

Four months later, he met Rude by chance as he delivered a package to the WRO headquarters. Cloud wasn’t sure what Reno had told him, but for some reason, Rude deemed it necessary to inform Cloud. That’s how he found out. About the mission Reno had been sent to, “pick-off and escort”, an easy job, all things considered. First, they had lost radio contact. Then, his helicopter had drifted off route. Stormy weather made it difficult for backup to reach him, but they hadn’t worried too much. Reno was the most capable pilot of their steadily growing unit, after all. Hadn't been concerned until Reno's signal had disappeared from the radar, gone without a trace. 

For three weeks, they had sent every expendable resource to scan the area, search for an explanation for what had happened. But they found no wreck to be salvaged, no body to bury.  
And nothing to say goodbye to.


	5. Grief / Mourning (Reno, Rude)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reno is hurting. Rude is there for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whumptober Day 19 - "Grief / Mourning Loved One / Survivor's Guilt"  
> Warning for hysteria/panic attacks, graphic depictions of injury and mentioned death of an unnamed character. Can be read as Reno/Rude.

Rude drags his thumb over Reno’s knuckles for what has to be over the hundredth time. His skin, smoothened from the repeated caress, glides over the rough texture of crusted tissue. Reno doesn’t flinch, probably doesn’t even notice the burn of the digit aggravating the spot where skin had been torn away to reveal angry red flesh beneath.   
At least his hands don’t tremble anymore, Rude thinks. 

He adjusts his grip where the flat of his palm rests against Reno’s chest, gently pushing him back into his own frame, and becomes aware of the too-fast beat of the heart, the minuscule shaking in the torso of his partner. Rude shifts, legs pushing slightly against the other pair under the thin blanket, making sure Reno can feel where his body is framed by the other if he allows himself to notice. If he can tear himself away from his own thoughts for a second or two. 

Abandoning the stroking of the torn hand, Rude adjusts the blanket where it slid off Reno’s shoulders, mindful of the marks around his throat. The back of his hand gently touches Reno’s jaw as he retreats it and he notices that the wet marks started to dry. The cold, firm grip on his chest tightens further in grievous anticipation, so Rude leans his own cheek heavier against Reno’s temple.

The guilt makes him sick as he thinks that he’s glad that he can’t see Reno’s face right now. The image of the last time still burns before him whenever he closes his eyes, engraved into his consciousness.   
Steel-blue eyes dulling over as their owner realized that it was over. That no god had heard his prayers, that fate hadn’t shown mercy, no one had gifted him a miracle. That the lifestream had done its job without hesitation.  
Rude knows he can’t bear to see the face that had made Tseng hesitate, speechless, and Rufus Shinra abandon his work to go down on one knee to offer his unconditional support.

The silence is too heavy, Rude finds. It would be pleasant if Reno wasn’t in his arms. Reno is not supposed to be this silent, still, indifferent. Apathetic. In all his years, Rude had never once considered silence to be haunting, no matter the chaos, violence and devastation that had preceded. But here in the comfort of their office, on their couch, he fears to ever fall asleep and encounter it again.

Rude feels the twitch in Reno’s jaw against his own skin and feels against the other's chest once more. His heart still threatens to tear itself out of its ribcage, speeding up instead of slowing down.  
Time loses its sense as Reno fights for words. Seconds or minutes or hours could have passed before he finally speaks.  
“It should have been me.” And Rude’s heart breaks all over again. 

“I know”, Rude offers, embraces Reno just a bit tighter in anticipation of another breakdown that he prays will never come albeit his awareness that the universe still isn't on their side.  
Silence fills the room once more. Nausea rises in his stomach as Rude notices the ashen pallor of Reno’s hand, the contrast stark against the black and red and purple of broken bones and torn skin, and his mind involuntarily fills the gap and stretches the tone onto the haunted visage as his partner’s life drains from his face before Rude’s very own eyes.

Restlessness spreads through his body. Rude can’t fight the images of how the hand had broken, during the process of Reno fighting against his restraints. Bones pressured and crunched until they gave way as Reno pulled hard enough to push his own shoulder out of its socket and then some more. Fighting a battle that was bound to be lost.

Reno throws his head back as he suddenly gasps for breath, heaving like he is drowning, body cramping with panic and rasped screams and cries almost in time with the rapid heartbeat within it.  
“Shhh”, Rude soothes, holding Reno tighter as he struggles against the memories of a chest being shredded to pieces, writhing in agony as if it was his own.  
It had been his own, in a way.  
The seconds stretch into minutes until Reno calms again, slumps nerveless into Rude. The tears run once again, over light and dark skin alike. Silence spreads once more. 

Reno’s hands shake in uncontainable pain, and Rudes reaches for one and runs his thumb over the knuckles.


End file.
